Hatori's Seasons
by SLOVA
Summary: The tragedy of a dragon and a rose growing in the cracks of concrete. Hatori & Kana


**One-shot.**

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_Spring_

He sat there, day by day, considering himself a worn-out tool. He didn't mind it much because he didn't expect much. The dragon had never known tears nor dragon had never been the one to show emotion of any sort. The dragon's priority was to his kin. He was alive to serve the purpose of his protecting and sheltering the family he strove to maintain. Even if one of those precious kin were to have an animosity toward everything he came into contact with, to cruelly prolong the quiet suffering of his fragile family, the dragon would still cure him if he would fall ill or if he were to drop his golden crown. The dragon would polish it wordlessly and bestow it on the child's head. The child's smirk at first let a sort of void within the dragon's chest, a hollow sort of existence. Lately, it had been agonizing. But, his smile made his mind rest easy. Silently watching, the dragon stood on the stone that he had been chained too. But, a flower had begun to grow amidst the lifeless vines and cracked concrete around him. A rose growing out of a sidewalk. Innocently enough, the dragon noticed the rose growing larger and longer, nearing his still form. The dragon would watch that flower, merely for the satisfaction of its undeniable beauty in his world of grey lines.

_Summer_

The rose was far more radiant. The rain from spring had hit the cement, darkening the color. It was so close to the dragon now; she grew to admire him for his quiet and concentrated demeanor. The way he stood with his head held high and eyes seemingly always concentrated on her. He grew to admire her as well, a sort of feeling that he couldn't understand. It was uncomfortable and embarrassing. He didn't tell anyone about it. He didn't dare. There was a desperation now fitted within the void he had felt at the base of his throat in the first season. The agony was uplifted, instead replaced by faltering unease. Hidden away, at the linings, was something pleasant. He thought of holding the flower, perhaps just for a little while, but looked down on himself. His claws would surely tear his petals. He didn't want to frighten, at worst hurt, something so wonderful. To bear this urge, he would watch her from afar, trying to resist the rose's endeavors to touch him, for she loved him. She would wrap her vines around the stone on which he sat on, but never dared to touch him. She knew the possibility of rejection, and the stem of a rose was something that couldn't be repaired once broken. However, slowly and cautiously, she extended her vines to him in a way that he found nearly impossible to ignore.

_Autumn_

Summer's sun was the brightest the dragon had seen in years. The gardens were vivid hues of lavender, pink, and green in the early Fall. But the fully grown rose was refusing to thrive in a garden. She had outstretched far enough to touch her silent, hard-skinned neighbor. But the dragon, still tied by his kin, struggled to keep balance between loving her and keeping her from harm's way. He knew he needed to stay away, but the temptation for happiness was finally enough for him. He smiled, and gently held the delicate rose between his harsh claws. A talon scratched her thorn, and the rose understood his distance. The remainder of Autumn, the two spent every sunset together, admiring one another's company. What sort of pain would it have caused them both to be away from each other at this point? The agony the dragon had suffered for so long were but forgotten memories that seemed unimportant next to the rose's radiance. But, sadly, gardens couldn't thrive forever. A monster was ascending.

_Winter_

Cold. Blank. Voided white. What had happened? The dragon asked himself in deep, sulking depression. His love had withered away, fallen apart beneath the foot of the angered child- the small monster. He hated the rose in a jealous, childish rage. The dragon had diminished into an insignificant sea horse. Partially blind to the world around him, unable to see that kind of love, that kind of happiness, that he had when he had his lovely rose near him. He did not want to see and he did not care to see. The flower was no longer his. He could not have her back. He bears memories of their first sunrise encounter, their innocent summer, and their final court in autumn. Winter would be the worst season for the dragon, but he couldn't bring himself to make it so, for he had the knowledge of the rose once again blooming in spring anew. She wouldn't recall any moments with the heartbroken dragon. He also kept one thing of hers to heart. _When the snow melts, what does it become?_ The rose asked him. Palely, the dragon answered _water_. But the rose swayed, delighted, and shook her swirled bud. _Nope, it becomes spring, s_he sang. Now even with painful nostalgia, the dragon knows the cold breath of winter will always be hushed by the warm kiss of spring. And sometimes, when he sees the rose so far away, and catches the glimpse of her smile, her petals reflecting sunshine off the dew drops, he pretends, for his sake, that it was meant for him.

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**Thanks for reading. Reviews are greatly appreciated.**


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